They're Always Black
by Turn on the Bright Lights
Summary: As Reverend Sykes lead us up to the balcony of the courtroom, I began to wonder. ‘Why was Tom Robinson on trial?’ Atticus never really told us much about the trial, just that he was defending Tom Robinson against Mr. Ewell. ‘Why was this so important'


a/n: Well... basically it's supposed to be a monologue of Jem during the trial for the book "_To Kill A Mockingbird_." Anyways, I must say that I really loved this book, despite so many negative responses to it. I hope whoever is reading this enjoys it.

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As Reverend Sykes lead us up to the balcony of the courtroom, I began to wonder. '_Why was Tom Robinson on trial?'_ Atticus never really told us much about the trial, just that he was defending Tom Robinson against Mr. Ewell. '_Why was this so important? Why were there so many people?'_

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Four black men got up for us in the first row, dead center; they probably did it because of Atticus. Not long after, the trial began. First up was Heck Tate, giving his testimony, claiming that Mr. Ewell came and got him and said that Tom Robinson raped his daughter. Though, during the cross-examination, I couldn't help but notice how clever Atticus was. After Mr. Gilmer finished his questions, I was wondering how Atticus was going to follow up. But he pointed out a very important detail: Heck Tate did not call for a doctor. '_Why not?'_

Next was Mr. Ewell. During his testimony, he stated that he saw it happen through the window of his home. And he chased that "nigger" away and then got Heck Tate. Then Atticus brought up that detail yet again: no doctor. And again, I say, '_why not?' _And also, Mr. Ewell said that Mayella's right eye was bruised; Mr. Ewell was left handed. '_Coincidence?'_

It was Mayella Ewell's turn to face the melancholy court and give her testimony. But, I couldn't help but notice how innocent, lonely she seemed. With no idea was friendship or politeness was. Even though I was in support of Tom Robinson, I could not help but to feel somewhat sad for Mayella. '_Guilt_.' But I also felt that all she was saying was lies, how supposedly _he_ attacked _her_. I felt that it was all planned - the crying, the testimony…

Last left was the only other person tied in, Tom Robinson. As he got up from his chair, I couldn't help but realize that his left arm was shorter than the other. Rev. Sykes said that he caught his arm in a cotton gin. That made me think: Mayella's bruised _right_ eye. Tom's testimony was almost the exact opposite of Mayella's: _she _attacked _him_.

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I didn't think there was anyway for us to lose. All of the evidence pointed to Mr. Ewell being the real convict. As the jury went to go determine Tom's fate, something – or rather _someone_ – caught my eye: Calpurnia. She was down in the white section, making her way through to the crowd and gave Atticus a note. Just then he told the judge what the note said: we were missing. _'Uh-oh.'_

I heard Mr. Underwood tell him that we were up in the colored balcony. Atticus's eyes then met with mine. He ordered us to get down from there, so we did. He told us that we – me, Scout, and Dill – should go home. But I wasn't ready to leave just yet.

After arguing somewhat it was decided that after we ate dinner we could come back to here the verdict. Calpurnia took us home.

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After several hours we returned to the courtroom. Still, no verdict. So we just sat there. Scout fell asleep, but I was filled with so much anxiety that I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried.

It felt like a long time, but the jury had come to a conclusion. My mind was set on the idea that there was no way we could lose, or so I had thought. I gripped the balcony rail as if trying to contain my anxiety. Heck Tate read the results of the poll first to himself, allowing me to steal a glance at the jury. Each had a blameworthy look on their face – as if they knew they did something wrong – and none looked at Tom Robinson._ 'Two bad signs.'_

Then Tate read it aloud, for all to hear, and I felt as if the weight of the world was crashing down upon me, and me alone, crushing me. "Guilty…, guilty…, guilty…," each felt like a separate stab in the heart. _'How could they do this? Why are the victims are always black? Why?'_ There were more questions than answers to go around. "It ain't right…," I kept mumbling to myself, "It ain't right...," and I had a feeling I wasn't the only one who thought this. Tom Robinson was innocent, and every person in that courtroom knew it, whether they wanted to, or not.

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a/n: Well, that's pretty much it. I hope it was long enough. Please review, I'm pretty sure it only takes about twenty-two seconds to write either "I loved it" or "I hated it" and then click submit. But it would be nice if you gave a reason...


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